Cold Hands
by Chile Hadwing
Summary: Hazel Lily-Rose Willows. I'm called a bitch at Midtown, and I try to just shut everyone out. I don't have friends. I don't want to, and I can't. I wouldn't call what I have a 'family', and I see things. You probably think I'm some crazy teenager, well your right. I'm just another sad girl with a sad life who does sad things to herself. (Peter/OC) (depression and all that warning)
1. Chapter 1

Yay! New Fanfic! If you guys thought my last Spidey ff was sad... well... you are in for a treat...

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My name is Hazel Lily-Rose Willows. And I see things. No, you little twit, not dead people, I see auras. And I promise you, I wont turn out to be dead by the end of this.

That was a joke. Hahah... Nevermind.

That's not the only thing I can do though. Other than being labeled as a 'crazy depressed bitch', I've kinda got this whole telekinetic thing going on. Maybe that's what makes me so cruel. Or maybe it's the fact my life isn't so peachy-keen as your normal households. I don't really want to get into that now..

And back to my super power! I guess as I walk down the halls of Midtown High, a youthful senior, blocking out the rest of my world with my headphones of 'Fall Out Boy' echoing into my ears, that it's my way of turning things off. I always try to tell myself that I'm bitter because of what I hear in people's heads. I don't try to, it just slips sometimes, and at the worst points too. That's why I can't make friends. And trust me, making friends would be one of the top things on my list. The closest things to friends I have is my multitude of plants, cats, and beta fish. I talk to them, and they like me. So there you go. Closest thing to friends I have is a rose-bush and a cat.

Now hold the train for a minute here; I know what you're thinking. I'm not crazy. Well... I am, but my doctors don't know that anymore. I guess what I'm saying is that no one else has been cut in a few months. I have not been in the hospital for a month, and all the guns have been taken out of my house. Everything's chill.

That's a complete lie.

"Mrs. Willows, get to class." Some teacher I guess I had over the past four years spoke to me as I leaned against a wall, closing my eyes.

"What?" I pulled out on of my blaring ear buds out, "Oh, yeah, sure," I nodded, speaking quietly and moving my way to my chemistry class.

Taking a seat in a stool at a science table, I took my curly black hair in my hands, wrapping it together and a tight but messy bun. My hair was horribly long, it was getting hard to take care of. Sighing, I leaned forward, zipping up my light red sweatshirt half way, still able to see my Black Keys t-shirt. My deep blue eyes looked at the board and winced. I was too far. Damn.

The bell rang-I could hear it through my music for once. Feeling someone sit next to me, I turned down my music, in hopes to have someone speak to me maybe.

I usually try to lock myself out from the rest. I really go out of my way to stay the silent wallflower. Right down to my clothes. Stylish enough to not get made fun of, boring enough not to get anyone's attention. It's as simple as that.

The bell rings a last time and class begins. I peek out of the corner of my eye to see someone new sitting next to me. Well, actually, he's not new to the school, but to this class he is! I think he name is Peter... he's the only one who's got my pity. He lost his uncle and his parents. Not to mention he gets the shit kicked out of him everyday. I mean, his life sounds like a walk in the park to me, but I know for him it must be tough.

"Hey," He speaks, catching me off guard, "Can I borrow a pencil...?"

I turn my head to fully look at him, and I almost have a heart attack. No, calm down, it wasn't because of his cute-boy looks, shush about that, I don't like talking about that. It was that I saw his aura. It was the purest, most whole thing I have ever seen. Like Peter was so... human. It just looked at him stangly. My eyes were wide and my mouth gaped open.

"Oh, uh... forget about it..." He swallowed and faced forward stiffly while I still looked at him.

Slowly, I drew my hand out of my bag and set a handful of pencils before him, my mouth and eyes still wide, "Keep them," I squeaked.

"Th-thanks..." He swapped them forward and into his bag, keeping one out for class.

_Oh my god what did I do this time?!_

My head throbbed slightly as I heard his internal comment. I had to try to stop myself from telling him he did nothing wrong. Instead I swallowed and turned forward, looking at the board and trying to get over the fact I had seen the most amazing thing ever.

XXxxXX

Riding silently on the bus home, my head leaning on the window. I tuned out my rummaging thoughts as best I could as I put in music to Paramore. I squinted at the sun shining down through the window on to my pale-as-fuck skin and eyes.

_Hazel looks so hot today. I should just say something._

I snapped my head around to see someone staring at me.

"Fuck off," I stuck up my middle finger to the person who held the thought.

I hated it when the rare occasion of someone hitting on my happened. There had been a few people who disregard the rumors at school and still find my to be attractive. I don't see it, I would never date me. I honestly find myself repulsive..

I turned away, leaning against the window again as my finger trailed up to play with my four necklaces. Two of which were my parents, two were mine. My father's cross dug into my palm, my mother's paper-airplane snaked between my fingers. My flower locket had been held the tightest with my crystal wrapped with a silver snake was looked at by me closely.

I don't know why I hold snakes so close to me. They freak me the fuck out. I guess it was because of that one time one bit me, and I had to go to the hospital, it brought my mom, my dad and me all together and we didn't fight. Every other time I see a snake, they seem to bring me good luck. I hate them, but they do nice things for me. So, I guess I appreciate them a bit...

Sighing as the bus stopped before my house, I got up to walk into the brisk September air. Taking a look around the other trashed yards, the creepy SUVs passing by, and shingles lying in driveways, I sigh, walking up my creaking wooden footsteps.

This neighborhood was trash, it was gross, violent, and you could smell the pot a mile away. It was the most disgusting place I have ever lived, and I've lived in many places. I push my way through the door. All this shit here was taking up to much space. I ran up the stairs before any one could notice I was home and shut my bedroom door shut behind me. I looked around and smiled, "Hi there, Frodo." Bending down to pet my brown cat, I smiled, "Sam, Legolas." I went to my two small fish bowls and smiled. The blue and red betas looking at up to me as I fed there separate bowls.

After spending a good fifteen minutes feeding, cleaning, and watering, I sat down on my bed and started my homework. I do care some..

I peaked at my bedside clock, seven fifty, it read. I sighed to myself when I jumped at the sound of my door being pounded on.

"Hazel! Open the fucking door!" My uncle's loud and angry drunk voice seeped through the walls.

"I-it's o-open," My voice trembled, as I gripped my blankets tightly. The man burst in, his tall but middle-aged outline showing. His face showed complete anger and I felt my fear rippling from my skin. My own cat hid under the bed.

"Where is your wallet?" He got up to the edge of my bed and stared down at me, "Where is it?!" He shouted.

My hand shook and went into my nightstand dresser, my eyes staying on my uncle Joe, handing him the thin wallet, he took only seconds to pour everything on to my bed to not find what he was looking for, "Where is your money, Hazel!?" He gripped my by my wrists, dragging my off my bed and pressed against a wall, "WHERE IS THE FUCKING MONEY!?"

"I-I don't have any, Auntie Jen took all of it yesterday," My tears strayed at the edge of my eyelids as my eyes avoided his. I knew my aunt probably lost it all in gambling like she did every week. Her gambling addiction had gotten so bad to the point of her selling an extra kidney on the black market. No, that was a lie, but I could see her doing that sometime soon. She sold her car for gambling money though..

"YOU LIAR!" He shouted right up to my face. His grip tightened on my fragile wrists, the bruises already starting to form, "WHERE IS YOUR MONEY!?"

"I-in my drawer, along the end. There's about one hundred." I cried. That was my money to get away from here. When I turned eighteen, I was gonna bolt out of this place. My plan was to go someplace far away. I was going to move to Wisconsin... or Iowa. But now that was gone. That wouldn't happen.

My uncle throws me down on to the ground, "Stay!" He shouts like I'm a dog. He soon had his money. I knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He was an addict, but to something far worse than gambling. He was high or drunk all the time. I could smell the alcohol off his breath now though. He was probably out of coke or something. But I couldn't think straight anymore when he came back to me and looked down, shoving my cash into his back pocket.

1, 2, 3, soon became eight. I was left clutching my stomach, crying on the floor. Every part of my had been assaulted. My uncle just walked away, leaving me to be by myself.

For an hour, I was in the same spot, trying to let the pain go away at least a bit. Once I could stand up, I sniffed and forced my tears away. I stood in front of my body mirror. Looking at myself, my sweatshirt off, my jeans replaced by short shorts, I looks at al my bruises, burns, and lastly, cuts. Fifty percent of the damage done to my body was from me.

I looked at my damaged, skinny as hell body. I couldn't eat. I wasn't anorexic, I just wasn't aloud to eat food at home. Somedays I had money at school for lunch to get food, but most of the time I went days without eating.

My mom used to call me beautiful. My hair was long, curly. My blue eyes used to shine bright and be full of life. I look at myself now and my dull orbs for eyes, my pale skin, my wretched body, and my layered black and slightly curly hair just shows the things my aunt would say is right.

"Don't," I mutter, looking down at my tattooed wrist saying the same thing. It was too late. When I opened my eyes again, crimson trickled to the floor under my feet. I didn't cry, I didn't wallow, I just stood there, accepting who I was, and I coped with it the only way I knew how.

This was my life. I adapted, but I hated it. Everyone's got their own dirty laundry, mine is just covered in blood and depression.

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So hey! Review please!


	2. Monster

Sorry this took a bit. I actually wrote it a while ago, I just didn't edit it till now. Enjoy! (And you actually get told a little why it's called Cold Hands)

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Looking behind me as I held my skateboard, I saw that girl from yesterday trudging a good distance behind me. She was the one who gave me, like, fifteen of her pencils and looked at me like I was Jesus or something like that.

I don't know her name. I had seen her face before. Many times. She's been at this high school the whole time. But she never spoke to anyone. I think people talk about her, they say rude things but I supposed it could be worse. Just about as much as I've heard is that she's a bitch. Is that true at all? She didn't seem like one.

I turned around before she could notice, but I doubt she would; she had her music in and she looked pretty out of it. The next class I had been with her, maybe I could get a chance to speak to her. I never see her with anyone, maybe we could be friends. Everyone needs a friend.

"Hey," I walk back to her, but it seemed she didn't hear me. Pulling out of her ear buds with my finger, I smiled slightly, "Hello." I said more clearly now she was able to hear me.

She gave me that same look as she did yesterday. I have no idea why she did though, it made no sense, "H-h-hi," She stammered, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"I'm Peter Parker." I smiled, sticking out of hand to her. I was trying to be my kindest to her.

She looks at the hand for a moment before taking it gently. Her hands were freezing. The coldest hands I have ever touched. Why were her hands so cold? Were they always like this? "Hazel Lily-Rose Willows." she says plainly, swallowing roughly.

Then I saw it, on the edge of her sleeve. She had bruises seeping out for the fabric. Was she okay? I hope it's nothing serious, "Hey, you okay?" I look at her, furrowing my eye brows slightly.

Her expression changed. It was scary how fast someone could change, "Mind your own fucking business." She hissed, yanking her hand away, "Leave me alone." Her vile tone echoed in my ear as she walked to class. What had I done wrong?

Sitting next to her in class, she had her hood up, eyes looking down to her notebook and music playing in her ears. I wonder what she likes. The Black Keys of course from her shirt. I almost said something about it-being that I love the Black Keys-but there was a bit of an odd occurence between us yesterday with the pencils.

"Fuck... Off..." She whispers, slightly turning her head to me, I couldn't see her face, but I could tell she was upset. She obviously knew I was staring at her. I'm not very discrete on that type of thing.

"I'm sorry if I angered you. It was not my intention, I was just trying to help." I looked down at her hunched over as my eyes grow sad. Were things really that bad for her? Maybe it's not my place to say anything.

"I don't need your help, _Peter_." Her hushed tone only grew angrier as she turned her attention back to her sketchbook, a simple rose being drawn on her page. It was simply beautiful.

I guess if I-Peter Parker-can't help her, I'll have to have my friend deal with it.

===/===

I push through my front door again, only being able to get halfway up my stairs before a voice spoke, "Hazel, come here dear." My Aunt calls for me from the kitchen. I shuffle through the shit piled up and see her in the kitchen, cutting up apples, "Do you have a fifty?" she asked in her quiet, sweet tone.

"No, Uncle Joe took all my money last night. I'm sorry." I say in a small tone, looking down.

"What have I told you?" She tsked, "You need to get a job. If you don't, you know what going to happen to you, Honey." Her back was turned to me, but I could tell she was frustrated.

"I'm sorry. It's not easy. I've got school and then there's homework and I have to study-" I began, but she wiped around so fast it was scary.

"You will get a job and make money to support this family or you will be kicked out to live on the streets! And you remember what that was like!" Aunt Jen holds her knife out in front of me, her angry face soon fading to a sweet one, "Come here, Hazel." I didn't move, "Come here, Sweetie." She smiled and I finally complied.

She guides for me to stand in front of her. She always treated me like I was six. My hands were soon cupped by hers. With her guiding me, we cut the apple together, "Isn't this nice...?" She hummed to herself.

It wasn't long before she fucked up. My hand was sliced right across the top, "Ooops!" She said innocently as my blood poured over the cutting board. I looked at it. What had happened? The white apples soon turned red, my pale hand soon turned paler. I looked at it and gaped. My aunt was gone. She was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't move my left hand as it poured nonstop. I rushed for a rag to try to stop it.

Though I stopped. I didn't apply it on just yet. My whole body froze as I watched the crimson trickle down my hand on on to the floor. It would stain for sure. I had no issue with that. I hadn't seen unintentional blood in so long. It looked much different then when you don't want it there.

Snapping out of my trans, I gripped the towel to my hand tightly.

I stood on the tiny what you could call a porch outside my room. I could take a step onto it, and only one person could stand beside you. I looked out at the kitchen rag was clutched to my skin. Life fucking sucked.

"You okay?" I heard a voice behind me. Wiping around, I squeaked and looked up to find a blue and red spider on top on my roof. Spider-Man. I never paid attention to the little bastard. He had enough attention, I didn't want to be apart of it. He never came to save me, maybe that's why I disliked him so much. But right now, that might change. I supposed I was starring at him too long he spoke again, "You alright?" He repeated.

"Wha-? Oh, this?" I held up my hand, "Yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing." I shook it off like it was nothing. In all honesty though, it hurt like a motherfucker.

He hopped down in front of me, standing inches from me due to lack of space on the porch, "You're lying. Don't lie." He said simply and took my left hand, removing the rag slowly, I winced at the pain. It looked a lot worse than I thought it did, "See, it's not okay. Where's your first aid kit?"

I scoffed and looked at the masked man, "You think I have a first aid kit?" I laughed softly though I just wanted to cry, "I don't have one." I sighed.

"Then hold on," His arm snaked around my waist and we were soon pulled off my porch.

"I swear if you take me to the hospital..." I warned him, being completely freaked out with everything flying by me like this.

"I wont take you to the hospital. I've got a place better than that." There was a sound of hope in his tone. I just had to wonder where the hell he was bringing me.

The ride was silent. My eyes were closed for most of the ride. To say the least, this freaked me out. I am not seeing me do this again anytime in my future.

When I hit the ground, and I opened my eyes, I looked to see Spider-Man nowhere. He just left me. Well that was kinda a dick move. Now no one has help me and my hand hurts like fuck. I looked around, the gashed thing dangling by my side. All life was taken out of it now. I sighed, and walked down the sidewalk trying to find a bus.

"Hazel?" A voice stopped me. I turned around to see the last person I would want to see, "You alright?" He races off his porch to come look at my hand, "Come in, Hazel, I can help you."

Normally I would have denied Peter's invitation, but this really needed some help.. I nodded my head slowly and walked with him into to his house and eventually his bedroom, "Now, I understand if you don't want to tell me what wrong, but I will be here for you."

I glance around the teen's room. It looked so normal. I would love to live in a place like this, "You don't know me and yet you'll still be here for me," I said it more ironically, but it pieced together why he was so pure.

"Yes, it's what us good people do. Now come here," He patted the space on his bed, "So would you like to tell me what's going on?"

I follow to where he requested me to sit. Looking at his hand holding bandages, "Oh, it's just a kitchen accident..." It wasn't a complete lie, more bending the truth. I squinted when he took a wet rag and wiped away the blood.

"Alright..." He could sense I wasn't tell the complete truth, but after this morning, I think he learned not to press on with that sort of thing, "How did my find my house anyways?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, uh, I don't think you'll believe me, but... Spider-Man kinda brought me here... It's kinda crazy I know." I giggled quietly, blushing slightly.

Peter just looked at me then smiled, "Oh, yeah, he's a cool I guess. You must like him then, huh?"

I took a moment before I answered, "No, actually. Well. I mean, I didn't before today. He never helped me out, I guess, but today he did, so he must not be so bad after all." I shrugged as Peter cleaned my wound.

"Oh," He said simply, "Well what do you mean by 'help'?" He said quietly, trying not to push my buttons.

I frowned, trying to hold back my anger, "I just need some help at home is all." I said plainly, but my tone was harsh, sending the message for him to back off before he got into it.

I could see Peter swallow hard as he looked at me, "Oh, okay." I could tell he got it, "Hey Hazel..." He looked me right in my cold blue eyes. It was almost intimidating the way he looked at me. It was so bad I couldn't look at him. No one looked me that dead in the eyes except my uncle. It scared me.

"Wh-what." I squeaked, looking at the ground. I squeaked again once Peter rubbed alcohol over my wound.

"I want to you to look at me so I can talk to you," His tone soon became worried.

I looked up at him, returning his strong gaze. It only lasted a few moment before it became soft and I couldn't keep my eyes on him too long. I kept thinking if I did, he would kick my ass. Something I learned quickly when I moved in with my aunt and uncle when I was fifteen.

"I want you to know, I will be your friend. I will keep you as safe as I can. But you have to tell me what is going on. I can't do anything if I don't know." It was almost as if he was pleading to me. But why? We have only known each other for less than a day. Why was he already working so hard to keep me safe? "I need you to take this off so I can wrap your hand up.." He tugged at my sweatshirt and I pulled my hand away.

"No!" I snapped, "No, Peter. I don't need you to keep me safe, I don't need you to clean my wounds, and I don't need you to tell me what to do!" I scowled at him, holding my slowly bleeding hand to my chest, my jaw clenched.

"Hazel," Peter looked at me with serious, yet slightly angry eyes. It was strange to see it from someone so kind. And I didn't expect him to lunge forward and pin me down to the bed, grabbing my wrists, "Hazel! Look at yourself!" He pulled my sleeves down, about to make a point but he just gawked at me. No, it was more my arms. He looked so surprised for a while. In a trans as his fingers traced over the red lines down my arm. Peter swallowed hard before his frown only turned into burning anger, "See! Look at what you do to yourself! Not to mention the bruises! Hazel you have to tak to someone!"

"I don't have anyone!" I shouted back, my teeth stuck together. I tried to shake free from him, but his grip was too tight, and fear started to flow into my brain, "If I had someone wouldn't I have stopped doing this?!" I nudged to my arms, "THERE IS NO ONE TO PROTECT ME PETER!" I shook violently as his grip was getting painfully tight.

"Then let me help you! I don't want to see anyone in pain like this!" His face inches from me as he frowned, his eyebrows would have almost come off they were so tightly knitted together, "LET SOMEONE HELP YOU!" His hands gripped me so tight, tears strained at the corner of my eyes.

"P-P-Peter... I-it hurts..." I whined. My strong loud voice was now small, pleading. Like how I speak to my aunt and uncle, "Le-let go... P-please..."

I didn't think someone's face could turn so white so fast. His hands let go and I got off the bed to sit in the corner farthest to him, holding my wrists, my hand still bleeding.

"H-Hazel... I'm so sorry..." I think he saw now what I went through. I didn't need to tell him. He could see it in my eyes. He knew what I lived with. Slowly, carefully, like I was a hurt bird, he wanted to help but he didn't want me to try flying away, "I just... I just want to help. Please let me help, Hazel..." Slowly, he sat beside me. He was a slight distance away from me, but still close enough to make me a bit uncomfortable. I supposed it showed.

Finally, I looked at him and blinked, the tears rolling down my face, "I need help. I've need help since I was ten..." I cried, pulling my legs in, "I need someone to fix things. I need a reason to get in the morning other than to get out of the hell that is my house. I need help trying not to ruin myself more than I already have. I need help taking away that gun in my room..." I mumbled the last part, but I could feel Peter looking at me, "I need help figuring out what kind of monster I am..."

Peter slowly inched closer, a gentle arm wrapping around my waist, "I will help you. As much as I can." He whispered, a thumb brushing my tear aside, "But what do you mean by 'monster'? You seem perfectly fine.."

I swallowed before I answered, "I can hear people thoughts. I see auras. I'm such a freak..."

"No. You are not a freak. I honestly think people like you are amazing." He smiled, and I looked at him.

"Well thanks I guess. But my abilities are the least of my worries." I sighed, looking forward.

"Hazel. I want you to have dinner with us. And you can stay in here for the night." He smiled, "I want you to treat this like your home. Aunt May will love you... As long as you are nice to her..." He choked out.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" I sat up, frowning, but it soon went away, "Never mind. I know... You know, I honestly don't try to be mean... I just..."

"I know... I think you have a right to act the way you do..." He comforts me, "Now.. have you eaten at all?"

I snap my head to him, "No. I haven't eaten if four days. May I please eat some food." I rushed the words all together. It was pleading and excitement put together.

He just stared at me, in shock and amusement, "I think we will get you more than just 'some'." He stood up, holding his hand out to me, "Come on. I hope you like pizza." He smiled kindly.

"I love pizza." I smiled. I haven't had it since I was ten. I barely remember the taste...

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Please review! It makes me very happy :)


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